Wolf's Oath
by Rogue Enigma
Summary: Follow a Dragon Rider's journey through the war of Alagaesia. Blodhgarm x OC


_7898 AC_

With the background of a raging sea, stood a dark figure. Tall and immobile like the trees beside, the creature had a shape of a two-legged human. Its stillness and calmness contrasted sharply with the natural elements, while the human stared at the view in front, waiting for something to happen.

Rigmora was waiting indeed. Who knows what for, but from the way her shadowed, curious eyes examined the horizon, it was obvious that _it_ had to come soon. Her nostrils kept flaring, trying to catch a gust of anything that would indicate the upcoming end of her expectations, and the invisible hand of mind kept feeling around, searching for _it_.

If a passer-by happened to be around (not that it was possible in such place), he would muse that Rigmora was definitely an intriguing creature to look at. Tall and slim, her body was clothed in a dark, long coat, made of some kind of pelt, which cascaded down from her proud shoulders that refused to round forward even when the harsh wind tried to force them to succumb, and hid everything underneath it. Her head with ageless, angular features was held high, and the ruthless gale kept tearing and rustling raven hair with rare hints of salted strands in them. Rounded ears kept being exposed, indicating that Rigmora was not of an elf-kind, instead, completely and fully human. Yet, something about the woman - her stance, stagnation, lack of reaction to nature's elements - screamed 'different', excluding her from the population of the human-kind.

The answer to her strangeness came soon, in the form of a huge, gigantic reptile, which was gliding through the moving water with disturbing ease. Grey like the stone, or grey like the stormy sky above, the giant continued nearing the lonely figure, until finally, with one last stroke through the livid waves, it reached the shore. With grace and sneakiness of a seasoned predator, it crawled on top of the uneven ground, exposing his whole body to the freezing wind. It was a majestic creature, one would admit if ignoring the raw wildness and terrifying size, and the pure menace that the reptile radiated. Wet and shiny, the creature spread his wings, which could easily wrap around a medium-sized house, and stretched his grey-scaled body that now seemed closer to the graphite-grey than silver, with rare pecks of a lighter colour protruding through the heavy coating of precious stone-like armour.

Gazing at the creature, which was towering high over the already tall woman, Rigmora smiled, exposing straight, white teeth with sharp, pointed canines. _"Fyrngarm." _The voice of her mind addressed the creature. As if reacting to her soundless words, his large, scaled head with bright, pale eyes started lowering down, until it reached the level of Rigmora's head, touching her forehead with the tip of his snout. The woman closed her eyes, savouring the closeness of the reptile, feeling its warmth and the gentle skin of the unarmoured nose. A warm gust from the inside of the creature enveloped Rigmora, chasing away the harsh coldness. It was his animalistic way of showing the excitement of seeing the woman again.

_"__Fricai.__" _The voice of grave, deep and harsh, lacking any melodic undertone to it, yet for Rigmora sounding like the most fragile strings of an instrument being pulled and played with. The voice of a wild animal, who had not been tamed by anyone, but rather chose on his own free will to accompany his _friend_, not master. The voice that she learned to respect and appreciate a long time ago, in exchange for the creature's company and loyalty.

Rigmora was a Dragon Rider. Standing in front of the raging sea, she was waiting for Fyrngarm to come back from his hunt, the first, and probably the last one that she will acknowledge in this secluded island. The grey dragon was successful, his hunt bringing joy and satiety for a few days. Touching Rigmora's forehead, he showed the woman flashes of his accomplishment, the feeling of pride flowing freely through their mental bond. Although Fyrngarm was hardly a young dragon anymore, the excitement of a hunt and a fight never failed to lessen to the point of indifference. But perhaps it was in the nature of every predator? A snake hunting mice, an eagle searching for the snake? Maybe they all felt the same, and nothing else but the experience tied the majestic grey dragon with every lesser creature that also possessed the name of a hunter.

"_How is the water further from the land?_" The dragon moved his head, blinking slowly, turning his sharp gaze towards the far horizon from where he swam, to where the woman was looking.

"_Calm. The sea gets angry only near the shore._" His gruff voice sounded deep inside Rigmora's mind. "_But it varies in depth. Is full of highs and lows. I could reach and stay on the bottom._"

"_Hmm._" The woman's jaw was moving without a sound, tightening and relaxing, and the muscle kept appearing and disappearing. A moment later, Rigmora's honey-brown eyes glanced towards the trees behind her, which were forming spacious gaps that should have allowed the grey dragon to fit in between them. Almost as if it was specifically made by some godly power to allow a giant reptile pass and reach the other side of the forest unnoticed, hidden by the thick trunks. Rigmora knew it was most definitely not the case, and it was all just nature's mischief, but the thought of somewhat accepting, hospitable environment cheered her bleak mood. "_Come._" She didn't wait for the dragon to start moving, knowing well that he will follow her sooner or later. Rigmora neared the human-untouched forest, examining trunks that from a close distance were as thick as Fyrngarm's neck. Some of them were even double in size, and for a moment, she was amazed by the richness of the island's soil for the trees to grow this huge. Firs and maples, oaks and pines - they all were enormous in size. The woman hadn't seen such an environment even in Du Weldenvarden, where plants fed off elven magic.

"_It is... Big._" The dragon commented, sharing his own opinion. Even with her back turned, Rigmora could feel the ground underneath her feet vibrating as the giant crept closer and closer to where she was standing, until finally, the Rider and the dragon stood shoulder-to-shoulder, or more like shoulder-to-leg. "_I can smell food. The island must be full of animals._" Rigmora couldn't smell 'food', but she could hear the noises that living creatures made all around Alagaesia.

"_Shall we..?_" With a silent growl, Fyrngarm walked forward, his Rider following soon after, until both of their bodies disappeared in the cool shadows. Startled birds above their heads immediately took off, abandoning branches and flying away. Animals knew that a superior predator has just entered their kingdom. With observing eyes, the woman kept gazing around, those darkened orbs, saturated with the shadows around, moved constantly from side to side. The long coat of animal's pelt was tugged snugly around her broad-shouldered body, keeping Rigmora warm and comfortable. The temperature, already low near the water, dropped even further, and the woman felt grateful for having the warm piece of clothing on her body. Fyrngarm didn't mind the coolness, though. His grey armour kept the heat trapped inside, protecting the dragon from the harsh climate.

They slowly made their way further, deeper into the forest, exploring the new environment. And to be honest, it was not that different from what they were used to. "_It should be good. At least until the war is won._" Rigmora's husky voice echoed inside Fyrngarm's mind, forcing the dragon to puff out a cloud of dark smoke.

"_Nothing is good enough to conquer the excitement of battle, __iet fricai__._" With a pointed, long look, the woman took in the dragon next to her. She replied after a long pause, a strange undertone of desperation hiding underneath her usual mind-voice.

"_I am familiar with the calling of your nature, Fyrngarm. Yet, I also know _you_ know that my sanity depends purely on your wellness._" She stayed silent for a moment, mentally debating her next words. "_We have both seen what happens to the rider who lost his dragon. I don't want to experience the same madness that __menknurlan____possesses._" Rigmora spat the dwarfish insult, describing the betrayer. "Y_ou agreed with me that as long as the dragons are the main target of __Wyrdfell __it is best for you to stay away, as far from Alagaesia as possible. Don't force me to question my judgement now._" The beast expressed his displeasure by breathing out an even darker cloud of smoke, and although he stayed silent, the Rider knew exactly what he was thinking.

Neither one of them said anything. Nothing had to be, because her fear was his fear, and his rage was met with her own disappointment. A blessing and a curse at the same time, to feel exactly the same as the other one, because, after so many years, the line between the Rider and the dragon blurred, twisted and re-shaped itself, until it was nearly impossible to distinguish where started one's soul, and where ended other's.

Their journey towards the far end of the forest continued. It was a purposeful walk - Rigmora wanted to explore the mountainous area of the island, where trees morphed into plain fields, and finally, into a wall of solid stone. Full of caves and holes, it should have been perfect for the grey dragon to thrive in, to hide from the harsh winds and rain if needed, rest and sleep, and digest the upcoming meals in peace. "_These look almost like Beor Mountains._" The woman mused, her honey-coloured eyes fixated on the stony area. Fyrngarm breathed an impatient sigh, which in the mouth of the dragon sounded like a suppressed roar, and moved his head from side to side. The natural movement pattern of humans, which he tried to mimic, turned out to be much more comical than the creature intended. Fyrngarm's head was huge, and the quickly executed movement became much slower and cumbersome. Seeing this, the woman's long mouth broke into a suppressed smile.

"_The great mountains of two-legged rats are bigger. These are even less than a reflection._" The dragon's harsh voice rumbled inside Rigmora's head, making her smirk even wider.

"_Yeah? Are you sure, __Garm abr Fyrn__? Because I am almost completely positive it is as great in size as half of the dwarfish mountains, if not more._"

"_You are tied to ground. You have not seen a glimpse of them. How would you know, little one?_"

"_I happened to travel a lot on a flying lizard._" The dragon's arrogance did not faze Rigmora. A few hundred years was more than enough to get used to his characteristic manners, and also learn how to cope with them. She could feel his displeasure radiating off of him, but didn't pay much attention to it.

"_Will you survive without the _flying lizard?" Fyrngarm's question threw the woman off guard, making her momentarily stop and the smile disappear. Staring at the view in front, the majestic landscape which opened itself because of the clearance that they stood in, Rigmora locked her jaw to the point of almost breaking it, her whole face hardening, sharp angles becoming even more pronounced. "_You have been talking about how_ you _would lose yourself to madness if something happened to me, but have you thought what will happen to_ me _if it is you who goes to nothingness?_" The dragon's guttural tone echoed, loud and lost, squeezing Rigmora's old, numbed heart. Her honeyed gaze flew towards the creature besides her, taking in the magnificent beast, memorizing his form over and over again, so that in the following years, when her hope is lost and it seems that everything couldn't get any worse, the memory of him would fuel her thirst for battle and enemy's blood. A gentle hand stroked the unbreakable grey armour, feeling its ridges and edges.

"_If my fate is to follow the fallen Riders into the nothingness, then, my friend, I will thank whatever gods for putting the idea of isolating you from myself inside my head, so you could wait for the right moment till the word-breakers lose their vigilance, and retaliate as only you can._" Her words were bleak in meaning, yet sounding much more confident than the rider actually felt. In response to her words, the dragon's head kept lowering down, until it was eye-level to Rigmora's head. She could feel his mind taking various turns, contemplating some private thoughts that the dragon did not wish to share with her. The gaze of pale orbs with vertical pupils hypnotized her, just like it always did, and for a second she was thankful that Fyrngarm didn't consider her as prey.

"_Is this your final word?_" He felt her wordless confirmation through their bond. "_Then I will not go against your decision. My blood is much hotter than yours, and I crave the taste of battle despite any higher judgement. If you believe it will save us both, I will trust your insight. But then, I want you to do something in return for my obedience._"

"_What is that?_"

"_I want you to take my heart of hearts. My Eldunari._" Rigmora's eyes widened, and if the woman hadn't had unbreakable control of her facial expressions, her jaw would have fallen open. "_This way, even after an eternity, when my mind gets primal and not responding to the common tongue, when my soul numbs and loses the remembrance of your touch, the owner of my essence will still be able to reach me through the haze._" Fyrngarm's deep voice sounded loud and solemn in the woman's mind. Rigmora lowered her head in a sign of respect.

"_I accept your Eldunari, Fyrngarm, and promise to keep it safe._" She felt a gentle touch on her forehead. The beast brushed her skin with the tip of his nose, blowing a gust of warm air into her face, ruffling Rigmora's raven hair.

With burning brown eyes, she watched the majestic creature straighten up. He reclined his head, and Fyrngarm's stomach muscles started contracting for a few times, his throat following soon after. The neck started to twitch as if something had been stuck inside. The grey dragon widened his stance, and every single muscle underneath the scales inside his huge body stiffened. Fyrngarm lowered his snout right above Rigmora's hands, opened his mouth, and a silver-coloured stone fell out through his sharp teeth. The woman just managed to catch the warm thing before it could hit the ground. In her hands, saliva-covered and slimy, was Fyrngarm's heart of hearts.

From first glance, it looked like a regular stone. Odd-coloured, yet completely normal. And only after examining it more throughout, the Rider noticed the tiny differences among its ridges and hollows, changes in colour from bright silver to the darkest of greys. The Eldunari radiated a gentle light from the inside, and seemingly pulsated, like a live organ. Before she could lose herself in the intricacy of the heart of hearts, Fyrngarm's harsh voice reached her consciousness. "_It is time, __iet fricai__._"

With a rapid twist of her head, the woman looked up. She understood what the dragon meant. Her time left on the island was rapidly decreasing. The dark had already settled in, shadows of the trees nearby elongated, the nocturnal animals slowly making their way out of the caves. In the distance, Rigmora heard barking and howling, and with distant interest wondered whether or not something like the giant shrrg could live up the mountains. With the last glance at Fyrngarm's heart, she unwinded her dark coat, wrapping the Eldunari securely in its lapels. "_Come, little one._" The grey beast lowered himself down, signalling Rigmora to climb up on his back. "_I will get you to your ship._"

Their last flight went by smoothly, the dragon gliding through the currents of wind effortlessly. From high above, the woman couldn't see the extent of the whole island. Apparently, the land was way larger than she originally anticipated. Green areas of forests, grey, endless seas of stone, amethyst lakes. A thriving land, she mused. Someday, when the war has ended, she would come back here, and spend the remaining days of her life surrounded by this unknown wildness. "_I will keep you informed whether or not the experience is worth the view._"

"_Hmm._" A corner of Rigmora's mouth curved upside. There were no boundaries between hers and Fyrngarm's mind. "_A calming experience for a human is slightly different than the concept of relaxation for a dragon. I can't trust you to take this into account._" A cloud of smoke surrounded her, dissipating into the air quickly.

"_Have some faith in me._" Rigmora lowered her honeyed eyes, caressing gently the hidden Eldunari in her hands.

"_Eka havr._"

The ghostly ship came into the view. Fyrngarm landed on the sandy shore, lowering once again so Rigmora could slide off of him carefully. She felt a gentle push on her back, where the dragon touched her with his shimmering, horned head, manoeuvring her body towards the single boat in which she originally swam to the island from the ship. With one last glance backwards, Rigmora jumped into the floating boat gracefully, and finally, turned around, fully facing the beast. His pale eyes, surrounded by tiny scales, reflected the disappearing sunlight. The Rider bent at her waist in an elvish manner, repeating the words that she knew by heart aloud. "Atra esterni ono thelduin, Garm abr Fyrn."

"_Atra du evarinya ono varda, Shur'tugal._"

"Un atra mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr." She sat at the bottom of the boat, lifted her left hand, and commanded in a hoarse voice. "Ganga fram." Gently rocked by the calmed waves, she started moving forward, away from the lonely giant. And only after the Rider climbed into the white ship, only when, using the endless reserves of energy, she forced it to move, only then did Rigmora turn around, painful longing in her glossy eyes. Reaching into the diminishing mental connection, she whispered to the majestic creature. "_Until we next meet, my friend_." The storm-coloured dragon reclined his head and roared, telling the empty sky the depths of his pain. And the last thing that Rigmora will remember is the hollow echoes of her dragon's song.

As she reached the land border of Alagaesia, the time had moved forward by a week. Rigmora's journey hadn't ended here, though. Still inside the ship, she fetched a deep bowl, which she filled with clear water. Murmuring a silent spell, the woman waited patiently until a silver-haired elf came into the view. "Oromis-Elda." She twisted her hand, pressing it to her chest.

"Rigmora Shur'tugal." The elf copied her movement, at the same time examining the woman's expression. "I didn't expect you to be back so soon. I understand your mission went by successfully?"

"As successful as it possibly could, Oromis-Elda." Her gaze drifted sideways as if the woman was mentally debating her next words. "Although, I must say, an unexpected thing happened. I wished to discuss it in private and was ready to head to Ilirea. I would be there in a week. Even less, if I found a fast horse. But I was not sure whether I would find you and Glaedr there." Oromis held his sky-coloured eyes locked with Rigmora's brown ones.

"There is no reason for us to be anywhere else, Rigmora. We will be waiting for you." A barely noticeable nod was the only acknowledgement from the younger Rider before she lowered her head once more in a goodbye. The elderly elf muttered a response, and she released the spell, immediately going into action. A lot had to be done before she was ready to head towards the capital.

Feinster was the city closest to her whereabouts. The ship was left under the supervision of the citizens, and on the same day, a strong, light-coloured horse was brought under her request. For a ridiculous price, of course, the salesman praising the animal's long legs and muscular back. Although Rigmora could see clearly that it was hardly a suitable horse for long-distance travelling, she decided against saying anything, silently noting to herself not to forget to transfer constant streams of energy to the animal. She had to be quick, and the speed came at a certain price. The Rider even skipped food, in an attempt to lessen the burden on the horse's back. She could hunt and cook herself a meal just from the natural sources all around, as the road to Ilirea was full of animals.

The horse, whose strength was sustained by Rigmora's energy, was able to make acceptable progress during the first day, and the grim feeling inside the woman's chest lessened a tiny bit, seeing that the road to the capital will not be as long and tiring as she had originally anticipated. Forests around her were full of life, and it was that time of the year when wild herbs grew in every corner. As the days continued and the distance grew shorter and shorter, Rigmora's uneasiness decreased proportionally, and suddenly, she found herself even enjoying the journey on the animal's back. Incomparable to the feeling that riding a dragon brought, it had its own charm. Steady and constant, such a way of travelling gave enough time to collect and comprehend her own thoughts.

The week went by. Finally, the white tower of Ilirea could be seen in the horizon, and with renewed excitement, Rigmora sent a wave of sparkling energy into the horse's body, murmuring to him gently in the Ancient tongue, encouraging to quicken his pace, to reach the speed of a bird. The animal felt her slight agitation and tried to do his best to fulfil the Rider's wishes. Another hour and they were riding through the gate of the capital, both elves and humans walking around and following her retreating form with uneasy eyes. They knew who the raven-haired woman, clothed in an animal pelt, was, yet nobody understood why suddenly a Dragon Rider had to exchange her proud friend into a white horse. A silent crowd, keeping its distance, yet radiating curiosity and concern.

Rigmora left her companion, trusting the horsemen to take care of the animal. After all, the creature brought her to the final destination and deserved to be treated accordingly. The woman, on the other hand, had no intentions to rest nor have a proper meal. Someone much more important was waiting for her audience, and she didn't want to keep the elderly Rider waiting.

But something was different from the last time Rigmora visited the capital of Riders. Full of dragons and the Blessed ones less than a month ago, Ilirea's tower and the great castle were nearly empty. Uneasiness creeping up her back in a form of cold sweat, the woman continued her slow walk down the aisle.

Within a moment, shorter than it takes to blink, she pulled out her charcoal-coloured sword, swinging it back against her attacker's throat. A tall, dark-clothed man lifted his dagger, and with the stability that only an elf could muster, met her blow with his own weapon. "I am your friend! Fricai onr eka eddyr!" Immediately, Rigmora lowered her sword but didn't put it back yet. Only now, as the adrenalin disappeared, did she recognize the man in front of her.

"Blodhgarm." Unlike the initial impression, the elf was not clothed in dark attire. No, it was his own body covered in blue-black fur, which wrapped around his unusually muscular physique in the most natural way possible. Like a wild animal, he stared at her with his yellow, eagle-like eyes, seriousness mixing in them with slight amusement.

"To be honest, I did not expect friendly greetings from you. But neither did I think I would be met with a sword to my throat, Shur'tugal."

"You should know better than to sneak behind." The elf bowed his sharp-eared head, accepting Rigmora's warning with his own remark.

"It is not my fault your human ears can't distinguish enemy's feet from friend's." Rigmora shook her head slowly, staring at the male elf with an unreadable expression.

"I did not expect anything else to pass your mouth. But it is not that harmful to abandon your high pedestal, you know." Her lips pressed in a tight line. "I apologize for my inadequate reaction, Blodhgarm-Vodhr. As pleasurable as it is to talk with you, I am afraid I have to be somewhere else." Blodhgarm nodded once, his mane covering one attentive eye. With a graceful movement of his hand, the elf put the strand back into its place.

"I know. Oromis-Elda has informed me about your visit. I would be honoured to escort you to the main hall." His expression had not changed from its original arrogance-masked-with-politeness set of features, but he talked in a slightly softer, lower voice, his melodic baritone going down an octave. Rigmora lifted one eyebrow but didn't say anything, only nodding once. They fell into a mutual step, going down the aisle shoulder-to-shoulder.

A few minutes into their silent walk, Blodhgarm asked a question that the Rider did not wish to hear so soon. "Why is Fyrngarm not attending this meeting?" The woman cleared her suddenly tight throat and didn't say anything for a long moment, mentally contemplating her options. She was grateful he didn't speak the Ancient language, which forced one to tell the truth only. Rigmora was not bounded not to lie, yet her mind was suddenly empty, void of any believable explanation. The observing elf noticed her discomfort and was slightly surprised by the Rider's reaction.

"Gone. Fyrngarm is gone." The Ancient tongue prevented Rigmora from saying anything she did not believe in, and therefore ensured her companion that it had to be the truth what was told. The thing was, her dragon was truly gone, just to a different extent than the woman allowed others to understand. She trusted the old Rider and Glaedr but was cautious around other people.

The elf staggered a little, turning towards Rigmora, his animalistic face showing more emotion than ever before. A thin line appeared in between his shapely eyebrows, and Blodhgarm opened his mouth with glinting teeth inside to say something. The woman beat him, interrupting the upcoming questions. "And I do not wish to talk about it any more. Now it is my time to ask a question. Where are all other Riders?"

Rigmora met Blodhgarm over a century ago, during one of her usual visits to Ellesmera, and continued to uphold minimal connection throughout the decades. The first time, initially, they both felt a mutual... Disagreement. The male elf was arrogant, and despite it was a Dragon Rider he was dealing with, there were no boundaries for his pomposity. Rigmora, on the other hand, was prideful. In many cases, this character feature was as bad as Blodhgarm's arrogance but gave a different shade to her behaviour. Where he tried to show off his dominance over the lesser creatures, the Rider held onto her principles, refusing to budge an inch from her original plan. Maybe because the male elf and the woman were so similar in their nature, they hardly ever got along.

Immortality by the birth-right gave Blodhgarm exaggerated confidence. An exclusive position among the leaders due to the dragon, who has chosen her as his life-long partner, fuelled Rigmora's naturally occurring pride. Throughout their lives, both the elf and the Rider have earned their names, and yet, there were no excuses for their earth-born faults.

Now, the elf's reaction surprised Rigmora, who bore in mind his previous animosity towards both her and Fyrngarm, as if blaming the beast for choosing a lesser being than an elf-born as his Rider. Blodhgarm's sorrowful expression stirred something inside the woman's guts, and suddenly, she saw something a little more humane underneath the arrogant elf's furry exterior. He lowered his head, that midnight-coloured mane falling into his eyes. "I will respect your wish, Rigmora-Svit-kona. If there is anything I could do, please inform me." The woman lifted one thin eyebrow in response. So to see his softer side, one had to lose his dragon, huh? "To answer your question, the majority of Riders went onto various missions. There were some troublesome nights when Wyrdfell threatened to cause harm to the citizens of Dras-Leona and Belatona. Therefore, the Elders decided to send the Riders to various strategic spots. Ilirea, being the capital and having the largest concentration of powerful magicians, does not require so many Riders to be around. Despite that, a team of skilled elves were still asked to come." Rigmora nodded in understanding.

"That's why you have abandoned your position next to Islanzadi?"

"Yes." They reached a tall, wooden door to the main hall. The elf turned to her, uneasiness lurking deep in his yellow eyes. "Rigmora Shur'tugal, se mor'ranr onr skulblaka finna." The Rider's jaw was set tightly, harshening the features of her noble face. She pressed her palm to her chest, honouring the man in front, and without another word, went through the opened door.

Iet fricai - my friend

Menknurlan - (a dwarvish expression without a direct translation) unstoned ones; those who are without stone; the worst insult in dwarvish

Garm abr Fyrn - (literal translation of Fyrngarm's name) Wolf of War

Eka havr - I have

Atra esterni ono thelduin, Garm abr Fyrn - May good fortune rule over you, Wolf of War

Atra du evarinya ono varda, Shur'tugal _\- _Peace live in your heart, Dragon Rider

Un atra mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr - And the stars watch over you

Ganga fram - go forward

Fricai onr eka eddyr - I am your friend

Rigmora Shur'tugal, se mor'ranr onr skulblaka finna - Rigmora Dragon Rider, may your dragon find peace

Ancient language is written in **bold** font. If I have the patience (and skill), I will write the sentences in the original elven manner, but sometimes you will find English words written in bold. Please comprehend them as a failed attempt to convert certain sentences into the Ancient language.

Words said through mental connection are written in a _cursive_ font.


End file.
